Tough Nut to Crack
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Oneshot. Ducky invites the team to the ballet one winter's night. Tony and Ziva heavy, but not quite Tiva.


Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, but the Nutcracker is public domain. The Man can suck on that.

Spoilers: I don't know anymore. Chimera? SWAK?

Summary: Ducky attempts to culture his colleagues, but not on agar. That was his first mistake… Tony and Ziva heavy, but not quite Tiva.

* * *

Tony pressed his knees into the back of the driver's seat of the Mini as hard as he could, hoping he could find a little extra space by making Ziva feel uncomfortable. It was what she deserved after confining him to the itty-bitty backseat with McGee and letting Abby ride shotgun, in spite of his impassioned legroom argument. He decided his diabolical design of annoying her could wait until later as the theater appeared on the right. When she didn't slow, he spoke up, "Uh, Ziva, aren't we supposed to be meeting Ducky at…nyaaaaaaaaah!" He was thrown against McGee as she made a hard left into a garage.

"Should've worn your seatbelt, Tony," McGee chided, pushing Tony off him.

"I am! She just drives like a maniac who's about to kill us by hitting that…ooph." He remained pressed against the back of Ziva's seat for a moment, keeping his eyes tightly closed just in case they'd entered a movie in which time was slowed right before the tragic accident that killed the handsome actor in the moment before…the ballet. He opened his eyes; maybe dead wasn't so bad. It certainly didn't hurt.

"Tony, let go of my wrap."

"Huh?" He looked up at Ziva, who was surprisingly close. Releasing his hold on her seat, he dropped back into his own seat and exhaled loudly. "I need a drink. They serve beer at this thing, right?"

"It is the ballet, not a football game."

"Since I know you aren't talking about _real_ football, congratulations on naming the two most unlikely places you'd find me." The seat in front of him didn't budge when he yanked the handle. "You gonna let me out?"

"Other side," she said, slamming her door. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched out the window. Was it kosher to wear a short dress to the ballet? A dress that short and heels that tall? Maybe it wasn't too racy, but on a woman who normally wore cargo pants and combat boots? At least he wouldn't have to call the evening a total loss. He followed McGee out the passenger side, accepting Abby's hand for assistance as he clambered out of the back seat. He smoothed his tie and buttoned his jacket, reflecting that Abby's corseted dress added another plus to the night. If he fell asleep during the ballet, he'd certainly have some enticing dream fodder.

A pinch on his arm from Ziva prompted him back to reality and the four of them made their way quickly from the garage to the front of the theater, with Abby happily prattling about a concert they could go to later that night. Ziva looped her arm through his and whispered, "Don't you think we are a bit overdressed to see something called Sticky Movie Floor?"

He took the opportunity for another assessment of her attire. "No one's gonna accuse you of being _over_dressed, I can tell you that much."

"Pig." She separated from him and walked quickly ahead to where Ducky was standing, just outside the lobby.

"My dear, don't you look beautiful! And you, Abigail!" He took her hand and patted it. "So nice to see you both dressed to the nines."

Ziva leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Doctor. And might I say that your tuxedo is très élégant."

"What about me?" Tony asked, adjusting his tie. "I mean, I can see you not wanting to call attention to the suit McGee's mom picked out for him…"

"Hey!"

He ignored McGee's interruption, continuing, "But you gotta give credit to the Italian man in the native costume of his people!"

In spite of the fact that he'd just been insulted, McGee seemed intrigued. "Armani?"

"Zegna. Don't brush against it with that indecent Hugo Boss thing you're wearing."

"Yes, you both look quite handsome," Ducky stated, preventing them from carrying on. "Now if the other two in our party would trouble themselves to arrive, we could get to our seats before the first act begins! Oh, you ladies must be freezing! Here, we can wait inside."

Tony held the door as everyone passed by him, saying to no one in particular, "Gibbs late to the ballet? What a shock!"

"Sadly, Jethro had to cancel at the last moment. Something of great importance came up, I'm sure." Ducky stood ramrod straight along the wall in the crowded lobby, looking very put upon but dignified. "Fortunately, Mr. Palmer remembered that Agent Lee had mentioned a desire to see the ballet and agreed to bring her along…ah, there they are!"

Tony stood back as hellos and compliments on attire were exchanged, nodding when Palmer enthusiastically remarked to him, "So nice of Dr. Mallard to take us all to _The Nutcracker_, isn't it?"

"Just what any man would want to do the week before Christmas." He dropped back to the end of the line Ducky was now ushering through the throng, contemplating losing himself in the crowd until Ziva seized his sleeve and pulled him into the gilded theater. The last time he'd been in a place like this…this place? He pushed the memory out of his mind and plopped down into his red velvet seat, thankful that he was at least on the aisle. The lights went down almost immediately.

At the first sight of a man in disturbingly revealing tights, he leaned over and whispered to Ziva, "Is that why they call it the nutcracker? If that guy hits the floor while he's doing a split he'll…"

"So predictable."

"What?"

"Even I know that is a tired joke."

"Well, look at him. He's not even wearing a cup! Too bad they're all gay or a woman could really do some scouting for physical attributes at one of these things, huh?"

A voice behind them hissed, "Sshhh!"

Tony sat up straight in his seat, forcing himself to stay focused on the stage. Or silent, anyway. He maintained his composure until something surprising happened. "Rats! Why are there rats dancing?"

"Mice," Ziva corrected.

"They look like big rats."

The person behind him was less patient this time. "SSHHHHH!"

He took a deep breath, but the air didn't seem to get very far into his lungs. The atmosphere in the theater was becoming oppressive. "I'm gonna go get some air." He sprinted up the aisle and out of the building before she could respond.

* * *

Ziva glanced over her shoulder repeatedly for the remainder of the first act, getting more and more worried about Tony. The mice had really seemed to upset him, but she found it hard to believe that his irrational fear of rodents had kept him away for so long. She was sure that something must have happened to him. As soon as the lights came up, she stood and said to McGee, at her immediate right, "I am going to see where Tony has disappeared to."

"Yeah, where'd he go?"

"He got very uptight when the mice came onstage and said he wanted some fresh air."

"Really? I know he hates rats, but it's not like one of them was going to come down here, bite him and give him the plague. Again."

"Actually, Timothy, it was the fleas that…"

Ziva escaped from the remainder of Ducky's explanation, walking as quickly as she could up the aisle crowded with people making their way to the bathrooms and concessions. Tony was nowhere to be seen in the lobby, so she went to the main doors, peering through the foggy glass to see if he were standing outside. A few smokers were the only people in front of the building.

The worry in the pit of her stomach continued to build until her scans expanded to include a window across the street featuring several neon signs. She jogged, as best she could in her heels, to the sports bar, ready and hoping for the moment when her concern could turn into aggravation.

A rush of warm air and the hum of conversation greeted her as she pushed open the door of the establishment and immediately spotted Tony sitting at the bar with his neck craned up at a large television. She sat on the empty stool beside him without a word. He didn't notice her until the bartender placed a beer in front of her and he mistook it for his own. "Hey! What are you doin' here?"

"It is intermission."

"Halftime, Ziva. In basketball, they have halftime."

"I was referring to the reason I am here and not at the theater."

"The what?" He scratched his head. "Oh, right, men in tights. How's it going?"

"The mice were defeated and their king was killed."

"Is that some kind of code? The cows are in the barn making cheese. That mean anything to you?"

"No. Have you been sitting her drinking since you left?"

"The Wizards are playing Miami. But you didn't leave the ballet just to come watch Agent Zero drop 40 on the Heat. That's a trick, because Arenas is out with some injury. They're still playing well though."

"Tony…"

"You can stay or go, but you can't nag me if you stay."

She sipped her beer, moving a coaster in front of her before putting it down again. "I will stay. I do not think it is a particularly good ballet company, so we will not miss much."

He turned and smiled at her, settling a hand on her thigh. "Good."

She allowed his hand to linger a moment longer than she should have, but it turned out to be fortuitous when a blonde in a tube top stomped over. "What the hell? I go to the bathroom and you just find some slut to replace me?"

Tony shrugged. "She's not some slut. She's my friend. From work."

"Yeah, sure she is, Tom. Just remember when you're banging this skinny bitch you could have had this!" She twirled and stormed out of the bar.

"Tom?" Ziva raised an eyebrow as Tony calmly returned his attention to her, noticing that his hand still hadn't moved; she hadn't tried to move it for him either.

"Yeah, nearly gave her my real name. Such a rookie mistake." He finally turned back toward the bar. She copied his position, resting her elbows on the edge. "So you're not gonna ask?"

"Ask what?"

"About the ballet."

"We have been over your aversion to rats. You do not have to speak about it."

"No it was…well, the rats didn't help. I just remembered that I've been to that theater before. Some stupid musical, but Jeanne really wanted to…" He paused and drained the rest of his glass. "You aren't interested."

She signaled the bartender. "Tell me."

"I never would have done that before. Not like that, anyway. I wouldn't have hung around. But I did because I had to and then…" He sighed heavily and stared into the full beer that had just been placed in front of him. "What do I want now?"

She forced herself not to make too leading a suggestion. Or to jump into his lap. "Maybe you just need time to figure it out."

"But I've had time. It's been a couple months. And I still don't know." His head abruptly snapped up and she gazed at him expectantly, but he was focused on the TV. "Hey, third quarter."

"Tony…"

"Hey, relax. We're watching the game and I'm buying you another drink. And we'll split some wings, okay?"

"Okay." She made the effort to smile, wishing he hadn't shut his emotions off so quickly. It had felt like they were on the cusp of a breakthrough and then…

"I'm sorry, by the way. I didn't mean to get all emotional on you like that. Must be the beer bringing out the traditional holiday depression."

"Don't worry about it," she replied cheerily, saying the exact opposite of what she felt. No need to be disappointed; he'd been proving for quite some time that he didn't get or didn't want to get her hints.

They spent the next hour watching the basketball game, their conversation confined to that and the food. She wasn't surprised when their colleagues found them after the performance was over. Tony dozed with his head on her shoulder in the backseat as McGee drove her car home not long after that.


End file.
